I Forgot My Name Tag

Dad came home last week, and things were really awkward. I hadn’t seen him in many years when he came home I went to give him a warm welcome. I’ll be honest, I was expecting a hug and the whole “I missed you” deal. All I got was a, “Hi, nice to meet you.” and was pretty much ignored. He hugged my siblings and chatted and laughed with them, I felt really out of place. As I was standing there waiting to see if this was some sort of joke I realized that it wasn’t and walked away. Did he not know who I was? Oh wait, I forgot my name tag.

Although I did not want to admit to my family, it was hurtful. What was I supposed to do? Wave my hands around and jump around to be noticed? Did I really need a name tag for my own father to hug me? I went back to working on a project. About an hour later I was finally noticed and was apologized to. So I said “that’s OK.” it really was, I mean I was practically ignored for years a little incident shouldn’t be such a big deal. But to me it was, as much as I dislike to admit.

Looking on the bright side I realized that things didn’t have to be so bad. I have changed over the years for the better. Things are better now too, and although the idea of having him back home is still a bit weird it’s not so bad as it was the first day. I think we’re all getting used to the idea that we’re a family again, and that’s something beautiful.